the real meaning, the soul of the wordnor phrase or thought, that must be uncoverednor one winds up with . . . jargon.”nSince translation points towardnan infinite goal, “much along the waynis veiled or hidden, as on the wrongnside of a tapestry.” Hence, the translatornlearns humility by seeking obscuritynin the graceful doing of his work.nThe past tense admits memory. Thenpresent tense makes it possible to existnin the moment. “There are always thenimponderables,” but for that we haventhe future tense, the tense of dreams.nI think Schwamm wants the reader tonsee this elaborate scheme as a validnsymbolic ritual which expresses thenkind of poise Natalie achieves. The potentnand efficacious meanings of “word.”n”soul,” “redemption,” and “infinitengoals” resonate with each other in patternsnwhich are historical givens fornmost readers. “Through the act of translating,nwe learn or relearn or uncovernfor ourselves the real meaning of wordsnwe have been using or misusing all ournlives.” I think further that Schwammnintends for the reader to remembernat this point Wilhelmina’s utter simplicity,n”God be the only proper teacher.”nIf I am right in my speculation, it wouldnnot be too much to say that such Godlynadumbrations have unveiled signals ofnthe transcendent for Natalie. After girl who bears the name Natalie isnnamed after Christmas, for “Natalie”ncomes from the Latin dies natalis.njcxdjacent Lives is a telling critiquenof the legacy of modernism: the beliefnin mind ruled by a sense of self andnenergized by a hope in man’s capacitynto rescue himself through projects. Innthe dark cultural period we uneasilyninhabit, I am tempted to grasp at andnpraise any attempts to question thenstatus quo from the transcendent perspective.nIn an era characterized bynfragmentation, it is often the case thatnonly fragments are to be found.nSchwamm’s protagonist, despite hernbackground and environment, is notnlocked into the impotent hopes andn10nChronicles of Culturenliving despair which have been thenlegacy of modernism. Readers less willingnto settle for half a loaf may suggestnthat the speculations of Natalie havenlittle foundation in reality. They mightnbe inclined to see her as a spiritualndilettante entertaining her aspirationsnin a way which requires no hard commitments.nPerhaps. But I would urgensuch readers to consider Schwamm’snkeen diagnostic powers and the resultingnironies scattered plentifully throughoutnthe work. While these ironies arennot done playfully enough, they arenclearly friends of the reader directingnhim to her thematic conclusions.nSchwamm is right on the mark innher penetrating analysis of the failurenof the old-time radical, the failure ofnthe cold intellect which breeds the in­nability to love, and which calculatedlyndismisses the human factor. Hawthornenwould have recognized and ratifiednSchwamm’s depiction or the unforgivablensin. Her loving portrait of Laszlonis not sentimentalized: her vision isnclear. It is a simple fact that he hasnno equipment to deal with reality whennhe must take it full in the face.nAdmittedly. Natalie is not the luminousnportrait one would like to havenas a counterpoint to those whom shengoes beyond. She does, nevertheless,nraise her voice against the cant thatnthreatens all of us. Her tentative andnfragile affirmation is limited, but tonexpect something more (and I do) wouldnbe in this instance to force the characternbeyond her carefully fabricatednlimits. nnThe Charms of ProfunditynDorothy L. Savers: The WhimsicalnChristian; Macmillan: New York.nby Thomas MolnarnUorothy Savers’ book does not containnany piece of fiction, yet a readingnof the first half, the shorter essays,nbrought the old controversy about Catholicnliterature to my mind. I think itnwas Andre Gide who contended that an”Catholic novel” is a contradiction becausenthe characters are bound to followna certain pattern, ultimately derivednfrom the Gospels: there are the goodnones and the bad ones (destined fornheaven or hell, respectively), and. afternmany tribulations, the hero becomes annear or far copy of Jesus Christ. Giden(or whoever it was) was proved wrongnby Claudel. Eliot, ‘Waugh, Mauriac,nBernanos, and others, but there remainsna lingering impression that in andechristianized world Catholic storiesnmay have an uncomfortably stilted tonenProfessor Molnar is a frequent contributornto the Chronicles of Culture.nnnand a piety-laden style.nThere are other pitfalls too for thenCatholic writer, even when he does notntouch the field of fiction. The dogmanof Incarnation has given the Catholicnwriter a sixth sense, or, better put, anvigorous combination of the five, enablingnhim to detect the nature ofnreality, its solid position between extremes.nThe Scholastics called Aristotlenthe Philosopher because he taught,nin contrast to Plato, that intelligencensupplies us with basically reliablenknowledge. Incarnation goes one betternon Aristotle by suggesting, with a divinenforcefulness. the rehabilitation ofnthe body, thus the supreme guaranteenfor the knowledge of the world in whichnbody and mind are together immersed.nChesterton illustrated this rockbottomnrealism with the “Father Brown” storiesnin which the priest —a detective, armednwith the supernatural, walks with absolutensureness in the labyrinth of humannbehavior.nHowever, this quality has its drawback:nthe Catholic writer is irresistiblyndrawn to the teaching attitude, hen